The New Guy in Town

by Teresa Southwick

  “I’ve got layers,” he said.

  “Apparently.” She looked at Phoebe. “You’re not supposed to touch anything sharp and pointy.”

  “Sam said I could. And I didn’t hurt myself.” She held up her boo-boo-free hands. “See?”

  “I did give her permission,” Sam said. “It was actually the lesser of two evils. I wanted to give her a moratorium from vegetables while she’s here.”

  “I see what you mean.” She smiled at her daughter. “Good job, Phoebs.”

  “Can I watch TV now?”

  Sam put the chicken in the oven. “Dinner won’t be ready for about forty minutes.”

  “Okay, then, kiddo.”

  “Yay!” She ran into the family room and carefully picked up the remote, handling it as he’d shown her.

  When they were alone, Sam said, “Speaking of sharp things, you could use scissors.”

  Faith looked down at her hastily purchased clothes. “I forgot to pull them off.”

  He grabbed a pair from a drawer and moved close. “Let me.”

  The sweet scent of her freshly washed hair filled his head and twisted his senses into knots. Without thinking it through, he grabbed the tag that was just inside the neckline of the shirt to cut it off and his fingers brushed her skin. Her eyes darkened and her lips parted slightly. He was almost sure her breath caught for a moment. He knew for a fact that his did.

  She swallowed once and glanced at the tag on the waist of her pants. “I’ll get that one.”

  “Okay.”

  She took the scissors, careful not to touch him, and quickly did the job. It was time for him to break the spell so he opened a bottle of red wine, letting it breathe normally, which was more than he could say for himself. Then he took three glasses from a cupboard, one of them a champagne flute, and poured clear soda into it.

  “For Phoebe,” he explained. “Just this once. Because she’s evacuated.”

  Before Faith could say no, he brought it to the little girl on the leather sofa in the family room. “Tonight is a special occasion.”

  “What?” She took the glass he held out.

  “I get to have the pleasure of your company for dinner.”

  “Wow.” Carefully she took a sip. “I promise I won’t spill.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  He walked back into the kitchen where Faith stood with her back braced against the island. She was giving him a look. “What?”

  “You’re very good at this,” she said.

  The tone didn’t make her words sound like a compliment so he decided to clarify his actions in a positive way. “If you mean taking care of friends going through a rough time, then yes I am.”

  “I actually meant you’re quite practiced at charming women.”

  There was a whole lot of subtext in those words. “Charm isn’t a bad thing.”

  “It is if it’s not sincere.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “Look, as far as I’m concerned we’ve become friends. So if what you see in my behavior is charm in a bad way, then I’m not sure what I can do about that.”

  “Just stop it.”

  “I can’t be what I’m not,” he pointed out.

  “Neither can I.”

  “Okay.” Sam dragged his fingers through his hair. He was going to say this and let the chips fall wherever. “You don’t have to tell me I’m right, but I think there’s a better-than-even chance some guy did you wrong.”

  “You don’t—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “You’re right. I don’t know for sure. But the fact that defensiveness is your default position makes it a very good possibility.”

  She didn’t respond to that.

  “I assure you that I have no ulterior motives. I value your friendship and don’t want things to get awkward between us. There’s nothing to worry about from me and you can take that promise to the bank.” He smiled. “No pun intended.”

  Her lips curved up slightly. “Okay.”

  Sam’s word was important to him and he didn’t give it lightly. He’d drawn a line in the sand and wouldn’t cross it, even though the idea of kissing her had occurred to him. But he was sure there was a jerk in her past and he wouldn’t be another one who played her.

  When she could go back to her house in a day or two, this feeling would pass. There was no doubt in his mind that he could resist her for that short a time.

  Chapter Four

  “You didn’t have to come with me and volunteer to help feed the firefighters.” Faith glanced at Sam in the driver’s seat, which was appropriate since this was his car. Although she was pretty sure that’s where he sat in every part of his life.

  “This is my town now and I want to pitch in.” He slid her a look but the expression in his eyes was hidden by the dark aviator sunglasses. Very sexy glasses that amped up his appeal by a lot. “I want to make sure the firefighters’ staging area is a safe distance from the fire line.”

  “You don’t trust Des Parker?”

  “I don’t know him.” There was a hint of disapproval in his voice.

  That was an interesting negative reaction to someone he’d never met. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Jury’s out on that. All I know is you were pretty smoky when you got home last night.”

  “That would sound so much better if you’d said I was smokin’ hot.”

  Sam didn’t look at her but the corners of his mouth curved up. “You’ll do. And I’m here to make sure you’re not literally smokin’.”

  He navigated the winding two-lane road in a confidently masculine way that made her stomach quiver in that feminine way it did when fascinated by a guy. Admittedly that reaction was just plain stupid, but, sadly, too real. The best thing she could say about the inconvenient feeling was that it took her mind off worrying about what condition her home was in.

  But as they got closer to the staging area, visibility was reduced because of smoke hanging in the air and it got noticeably thicker every mile. The wind wasn’t as bad, but it was still a factor in battling the blaze.

  “I heard firefighters are coming from as far away as California and Oregon to help put this thing out.” Sam glanced over.

  “That’s the rumor.”

  “They’ll get it contained.”

  “Sure doesn’t feel that way right now,” she said.

  “It won’t burn forever.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Wow.” Sam glanced over again. “I didn’t take you for a glass-half-empty kind of person.”

  “It’s hard to be chipper and perky and optimistic when everything you have in the world might be gone.”

  “I know. But you have to stay strong.”

  “Says who?” She was feeling angry and resentful and looking to take it out on someone. It was his bad luck that he was in the line of fire, no pun intended. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to face the possibility of losing everything? Even with insurance there will be out-of-pocket expenses that I can’t afford. You would only have to write a check. Chump change.”

  “I admit that having access to more resources makes the prospect less daunting.”

  Well, pickles. She’d expected him to be all sunshine and unicorns, not agree with her. Now what was she going to argue with him about?

  “So, I met Kiki.”

  “Did you?” The corners of his mouth curved up.

  “Yes. When I delivered the breakup bouquet.”

  “I see.”

  Faith wanted more of a reaction so she could push back on something because she was really in the mood to push back. “Don’t you want to know what my impression of her was?”

  He shrugged. “Since I won’t be seeing her again, discussing it
is like shutting the barn door after the horse got out.”

  “I can see why you’d think that, but you could look at it like a debrief. Analyze what went wrong in order to not make the same mistake.”

  He nodded slowly. “That logic would be sound if I considered her a mistake.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Look at it this way.” He thought for a moment. “When you buy a dress, you try it on. See if it fits and that you like how it feels. That’s how I think of dating.”

  “Like trying on a pair of jeans?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Yes.”

  “So Kiki was nothing more than a fitting?”

  “In a way.” His tone was unrepentant.

  “I found her to be very pretty and nice. It seems so wrong to categorize her like that.”

  “How else are you going to know what works?” he defended.

  “Give someone a chance. Two dates is like making a decision on pants when you only try on one leg.”

  “Why risk trying on the other leg and becoming emotionally attached?”

  “Oh. You’re one of those,” she said, nodding knowingly.

  “What?” He glanced over, obviously fighting a grin. “You make me sound like a nonorganic vegetable at a health food convention.”

  Faith laughed, something that had seemed a long shot a few minutes ago. “I’ll put a finer point on it. You’re one of those men who is afraid of commitment.”

  “On the contrary. I’m not afraid, just choosing not to participate.”

  “That’s just spin.” Her words challenged even though she remembered his adamant admission that marriage wasn’t for him. “You’re afraid. Admit it.”

  “No.” He made a left turn into an open area with heavy equipment, fire trucks and cars. “And we’re here. Not a moment too soon.”

  Faith was jolted back to reality. Thanks to Sam, for a few minutes she’d managed to put aside the crisis hanging over her.

  They exited his luxury SUV and headed for the volunteer area. She was put to work serving food again. Sam unloaded cases of bottled water from a truck and stacked them. Another truck arrived with ice and he unloaded bags, then filled insulated chests and tubs with it to cool down the water.

  When Faith could sneak a glance at him she took full advantage. Watching Sam Hart work up a sweat was pure cotton candy for the eyes. And as distractions went, the sight of him was effective and exactly what a worried girl needed. She imagined he looked all CEO powerful behind his office desk in the building he owned. After today, she knew for a fact that he was pretty darn drool-worthy doing manual labor. And speaking of eye candy, a peek at him without a shirt might satisfy her sweet tooth.

  When there was a break in the action, he grabbed two bottles of cold water and wandered over. He opened one and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She took a long drink then pressed her lips together, blotting the excess moisture. She noticed a muscle in his jaw jerk as he watched her and wondered about that but decided to ignore it. “I needed this. It’s hot.”

  “There’s an understatement.” His voice was hoarse, probably from the smoky air. “And those guys fighting the fire have on all that heavy gear.”

  “I can’t even imagine how they do it,” she agreed. “So you think Des picked a safe place for the volunteers to be?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “It’s a major fire and there’s a lot of smoke. Phoebe is going to have a lot to say to both of us.”

  “She might not call you out. Right now you’re her hero. Speaking of that—” Faith spotted a familiar firefighter walking toward them “—here comes one of our bravest now. Hi, Des.”

  “Hey, Faith.”

  Sam frowned at the man who stopped beside them. But he held out his hand. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard good things about you. I’m Sam Hart.”

  The other man took the offered hand. “Desmond Parker. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard about you, too. Welcome to Blackwater Lake. That new office building of yours is impressive.”

  “Can’t complain. Pretty boring compared to what you do. You’ve got a tough gig right now, though. How’s it going?”

  “Frustrating.” He took off his helmet and dragged his fingers through his sweaty, matted dark hair. “The wind is still making it a challenge to keep up with the fire. It keeps jumping around. The conditions are unpredictable.” An expression slid into his eyes when his gaze met hers and it looked an awful lot like pity.

  Faith had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer but she had to ask. “Is there any news yet? About my neighborhood?”

  “Yeah,” Des said. “It’s not good.”

  Her stomach dropped. “What?”

  “The fire swept through Crawford’s Crest. There are houses burned to the ground. Some have damage. I don’t think any of them came through without a scratch. I don’t have addresses because—” He looked down and shook his head. “There wasn’t time to sort it out for folks.”

  “I know, Des. I—” Her voice caught.

  “I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her arm sympathetically. “I wish we could have pushed it back.”

  “You did everything you could.”

  “Maybe you’re one of the lucky ones with minor damage,” he said hopefully.

  “Maybe.”

  But not likely, she thought. Sam was right. She was a glass-half-empty girl. It was better to accept the worst and be pleasantly surprised than to be shocked in a bad way.

  “I have to go,” he said. “Wish the news was better—”

  “It’s okay. Thanks for the update. And, please, take care of yourself. Be safe.”

  “Will do.”

  Fortunately there wasn’t time to think about the worst because there was another group of dirty, tired, hungry men behind Des who’d just arrived from the front line. She got busy serving everyone and that took her mind off things. But a little while later she and Sam were relieved by other volunteers and walked back to his car.

  She was fine until he opened the passenger door for her. The simple gesture would have been lovely under normal circumstances, but for some reason right now it highlighted that she was all alone. No one ever opened her door. She was the grown-up who handled things by herself. This life-changing emergency was no different. Tears filled her eyes and there was no way to hide them from Sam. She put her hands over her face.

  “Faith—It’s okay.”

  “It’s n-not. You don’t know that.”

  “But I know you and Phoebe are fine. The rest can be fixed.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way right now.” She dropped her hands and met his gaze, feeling the wetness rolling down her cheeks, probably making tracks through the grime. “The worst part is not knowing. Whether or not it’s livable or we’re homeless—” Her voice wavered, cutting off more words.

  “Don’t borrow trouble.” In the next instant Sam reached out and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Everything will be all right. I know it’s hard, but try not to worry.”

  He was strong and reassuring and she was probably going to regret liking it so darn much. But he was peace and serenity, heaven in a world gone to hell. One minute she’d felt completely alone and the next she was in his arms. Just this once she was going to appreciate being reassured by a man who was holding her.

  Call her Scarlett O’Hara but tomorrow she’d worry about reinforcing her resistance to this man. It didn’t seem all that important right now.

  “How am I going to tell Phoebe?”

  Sam looked down. “Can you wait until you know for sure what’s going on?”

  “She knows I came here to volunteer and will ask for news about our house. I can’t lie. But how am I going to tell her this?”

  * * *

  Af
ter leaving the crisis command center Sam drove to Cabot Dixon’s ranch, where Phoebe was going to summer camp. He was doing his best to act normal, to behave as if holding Faith in his arms had been nothing but brotherly. She was every guy’s little sister, right?

  That’s not what his body was saying. Just before he’d held her, he’d told her not to borrow trouble. Feeling her soft curves pressed against him was like walking up to trouble and spitting in its eye. It wasn’t the first time he’d had the urge to comfort her. When the mayor had given her the bad news about evacuating, he’d wanted to pull her close then but he’d managed to resist. What he’d done a few minutes ago proved that his self-control with Faith was deteriorating.

  But as he drove beneath the sign that said “Dixon Ranch” and continued up the rolling hill to the compound of buildings, his thoughts turned to Phoebe. He admired Faith’s instinct to be honest and knew that was the right thing to do. Still, Sam would have preferred to put off the conversation until it was clear what they were facing.

  “You can park over there, by the house.” Faith pointed to a hitching rail.

  Just beyond it was a large two-story structure that had a wraparound porch with a white railing. There was a fan window above the front door. It was a nice place.

  Sam turned off the car. “Do you want me to wait here?”

  The expression in her eyes said she wanted to tell him she didn’t need his support, or to depend on anyone for that matter. So it was a surprise when she said, “No. You can come.”

  They got out, walked up the steps and Faith knocked on the heavy oak door. It was answered moments later by a pretty woman with a baby in her arms.

  “Hi, Faith.” She had brown hair streaked with blond and big green eyes. They darkened when she looked at him. “We haven’t met. I’m Kate Dixon.”

  “Sam Hart. Nice to meet you.” He smiled at the baby, a little girl judging by the pink dress and little pink bow in her blond hair. “Who’s this?”

  “Eve.” She looked tenderly at the child, who had a finger in her mouth and was drooling. “She’s nine months old and pretty much the star of the show around here. Her big brother, Tyler, dotes on her and she’s daddy’s little girl.”